


Diagnosis

by thefarplane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefarplane/pseuds/thefarplane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela Zigeler is a visiting doctor for an ER. Her career as a field medic and as "Mercy" have long been faded into the background. She has gotten mostly used to her life now, but when a mysterious John Doe appears in the ER with miraculous recovery rate, she is forced to face her past again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diagnosis

Angela Ziegler was tired.   
Her emergency room was crowded with many wounded, sick and helpless. She did not let her fatigue show, but it rested behind her eyes. She was here as a visiting Doctor, helping those out since they were short of staff, and to improve the quality of medical services. This was Angela's job now. Doctor was her name here. Not many people knew of her other name- Mercy.

"Mercy" was her name on the battlefield. She was formidable battle medic, first responder for those too battered and broken to reach proper medical providers.   
She was their guardian angel. She was their savior. But Mercy, she was left behind with the fall of Overwatch. Dr. Ziegler was what was left. Today was no different, she thought, as her shoes clacked down the hall, a nurse stopped her. 

"Oh! Doctor Ziegler! There you are, you weren't responding to the pager." The nurse said, concern on her face. Angela waved her hand with a small smile, to assure the nurse 

"My apologies, I was heading on over and got slightly distracted. Is everything alright? It seemed like no one was in critical condition or needed to be watch closely...."

The nurse nodded her head "Other than the common scrapes, cuts, and sickness, nothing extreme has come through yet....well, actually, there is one person that came in. He's in stable condition but it's bizarre." 

"Oh?" Angela's eyebrow raised in curiosity "What do you mean?" 

"Well....." The nurse said, in a slight whisper "There is someone here that looks really hurt, but is in stable condition. We also can't get a positive ID on him, and he has a mask...."

"A mask?" Mercy responded. Odd, indeed. "Why don't you take it off, it's probably hindering his breathing" Angela tucked strands of hair behind her ear. 

"He refuses to take it off, even if we try to forcibly....he's threatened us." The nurse responded back, meekly. 

"Lead me to the room then. I'll convince him" Angela's hand touched the nurse's shoulder and gave a warm smile. The nurse nodded and lead her further down the hallway until they reached the room. She motioned for the nurse to walk away, so she could take care of it on her own. Angela walked in, grabbing his clip board from the edge of his bed. Angela looked at him, and it was quite a unique look. It was a man, very built but his body peppered with various cuts and burn marks on his stomach and chest. His skin seem rough, and hands calloused and hardened with years of work. On his face, there was a mask, with a red visor and a scar across his face, and his hair salt and pepper colored. 

His body conveyed one of a younger man, but his hair and various scars told otherwise. His jacket was laid out next to his bed in a chair, emblazoned with the number 76 on the back in red and blue accents. Very unique identity, it seems, Angela mused. She finally spoke. 

"So, Mr. Doe......why don't you tell us who you are, for starters?" She turned the pages of his medical file, which were bare bones, except for the description of his injuries. The man laid unresponsive, only his breathing filled the silence between them. 

She looked at him, it was hard to tell if he was awake or not, with the visor and mask covering his face. She approached the left side of the bed, her hand reaching over to pull off the faceplate when she felt a grip on her wrist. His fingers closed around it.

"Don't" he spoke, his face turning in her direction "I rather not have this off"

She wiggled her hand free, not stepping away from the bed, and a frown on her face. 

"It would be much easier for me to assist you if your mask was off, sir. That way I can check for any injuries there. We don't want anything to be broken, or for anything to get infected...." She spoke in an assuring, but affirming tone

"I assure you that there isn't anything broken up here, or infected. I rather keep my identity a secret" The man spoke finally to her. His voice, sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. Angela pushed the thought to the back of her mind, her fatigue going away with this mysterious man in the ER.

"So" she said, taking out her stethoscope "How did you end up here, sir?" The nurses who processed him had already taken his vitals, but she wanted to double check if they were correct. 

"It was a mistake for me to come here..." He responded "I don't know how I even got here."

She started to listen to his heartbeat. Everything was normal, the same with his breathing and lungs, perfect.

"Your file here says you were found in an alleyway, bloodied and pretty beaten up. Knocked unconscious. But even looking at you, superficially.....you don't even look the slightest bit hurt." Angela realized she was missing the pressure cuff to see if his blood pressure was fine, and walked over to the nearby desk, back turned away.

He didn't respond

"You're a man who prefers not to speak, hm?" She spoke, distracted, trying to find the cuff in the drawers of the desk

"You're pretty observant there, huh, Angel?" He responded back, quietly He started to move, to get off the bed.

Angela quickly turned around, towards him, her eyes alert. She felt like someone had shocked her. 

"What....did you say?"

"Huh? I don't know what you're talking about- but I don't need to be here." His voice was annoyed, and started to walk away from the bed

She walked towards him quickly and stood directly in front of him. Her face was serious. 

"Only one person has ever called me Angel" Angela stood her ground "I never liked that pet name-but only one person has ever called me that. Only one person was allowed to." She spoke, her mind flooding with memories.

"Who are you. Tell me" she said sternly. The man try to walk past her, but she extended her hand right to his chest, stopping him.

"Take off your mask. Now" She said, her voice louder. "I need to see your face now" 

"You've got this all mixed up-"  
"Mask, off. I mean it. Or I'll take it off" her voice was cold

The man sighed, his face turned away. 

"I'm not a man you know" 

"Then, show me. Prove me wrong."

He stood silently for a moment. His mind clearly wrestling with his thoughts. After a long pause, he turned his face towards her, his hand reaching for his faceplate. A small *click* was heard, and it came off easily.

Angela stood there, her eyes scanning, taking everything in. It was him. It was. He was standing here right in front of her. Jack Morrison

".......You're.....alive" Angela was finally able to force out words.

All he could do was look away from her face. Jack couldn't face her.

"I can't believe this. I went...to your funeral. I visited your grave so many times over the past five years" Angela's voice cracked

"And you're alive. You didn't tell me anything for five years?" 

"I have to go." Jack said, moving past her and towards the door 

"NO!" She yelled at him, turning towards him. "You don't get to do this, you bastard. I....grieved over you. We all did. I-I....cried so many nights because I thought I lost you and Reyes in the explosion!" Her voice goes higher "You INTENTIONALLY did this. And you get sent here and I know the truth. And you want to leave. How dare you, Morrison" She spat

"....I'm sorry, Angel. I'm truly sorry" 

She closed the gap between them, 

"No. You don't get to call me that. I WEEPED OVER YOUR DEATH, JACK. AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?" She gritted her teeth, grabbing his face with both her hands 

"I-"

"Shut up. Just shut up, Jack" Angela's tears welled up in the corner of her blue eyes, starting to stream down her face. She held onto his face, just staring at his wrinkles, the bags developing under his eyes from lack of sleep. He felt more fatigue. He felt more pain then she could imagine. His eyes conveyed that he had seen dark things, that he himself had done dark things. This thought of the man she once knew, falling down to such depths caused much sadness within her. 

"I've could've helped you....I've could've healed you." She whispered, tears still flowing.

"I wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect you all." His words, so simple and direct, that didn't change. 

Her hands let go of his face, and reached for her own as she sobbed into them. This wasn't what she wanted or thought would happen. It overwhelmed her. She felt his arms pull her closer, her sobs and tears on his bare chest. 

The feel of his embrace, a warm, distant familiar feeling that she could pick out from her memories only made her cry even more.

"I hate you, Jack." She said, bitterly, her fists pounding into his chest, lightly. She didn't let go

"I know."

They stood there holding each other in silence. Angela listened to his heart beat, not wanting to let go. But she soon felt his warmth leave her as he walked towards the door. 

"I really am sorry, Angela" His face, scarred and wrinkled, a ghost of who was once Jack Morrison. 

She stood her ground for a moment, her blue eyes narrowed in grief and anger- and she then turned around, walking towards the chair with his jacket on it. She picked it up, holding the leather close to her, before walking back towards Jack and handing it over to him.

"I don't want you to get cold out there....I may still hate you, but I can't afford you ending up here again." She knew, deep down, she couldn't stop him. That part of Jack still remained with him. His unwavering sense of freedom and justice for others. He took the jacket, easing himself into it. 

"Thank you" he nodded "For understanding." He then walked out into the hallway, before disappearing around the corner, the sound of his boots on the linoleum floor now mixing in with the various beeps and murmurs of the ER wing. Her heart was heavy, and her body was worn down, she never felt this tired, not since the fall of her beloved friends.

Angela stood in the room, silently, her thoughts swarming around in so many different directions when she heard a distinct beeping noise from her pocket.

She pulled out the small device. Very different from her cell phone and pager. On it was the symbol for the now defunct OVERWATCH, the organization she once put so much work into, the one where now was fading into obscurity. This phone hadn't rung in many years, but she kept it on her always, just in case.

She curiously picked up the phone, and heard a familiar voice. "Angela?"

"Winston? Is that really you? Did....something happen?"

"It's me, Angela. And something did happen. We have to do the Recall"

There was a pause between the both of them, his words sinking in. She started to head for the door and out into the hallway with determined, dried eyes, her fatigue now gone. 

"Tell me what to do"


End file.
